Angel of Chaos (Imp Book 6) (8 page)

I made a mental note and vowed to pull together a selection of chocolates for an angelic taste test. This was fun, introducing Gregory to food and drink. I hoped it led to all sorts of other sins.

“Why does the Roper woman persist in sexual overtures toward her husband when he is clearly not interested?” He frowned down at one of my reports. I was amazed he even knew what was happening on the show since he hadn’t looked up more than once in the last fifteen minutes.

I nodded. “I know. She needs to ditch him and fuck Jack instead. Or get a really good vibrator. Stanley is an ass anyway.”

Harper snorted. “Jack? Yuck. I’d pick the vibrator over him any day.”

Nyalla shook her head. “Although I suspect Mrs. Roper would welcome sexual relations with either Jack or a battery–powered device; she
does
want her husband. She’s trying to connect with him. Even though their relationship is flawed, she offers sex as a way to prove that, deep down, they still love each other. He acts as if he dislikes it, but Mr. Roper still grants her requests for sex. He, too, needs that connection.”

Great. My girl was turning into some kind of Dr. Phil. “Nah. He’s too fugly to get anyone else in the sack. His wife is the only option available besides jerking off in the shower or paying a prostitute. Mr. Roper is too cheap to shell out for sex.”

“He’d have to pay big,” Harper commented. “I’d rather sleep with an angel. No offense.” She grinned at Gregory.

“None taken.”

I was beginning to like this girl. She had mad pillow–slaughtering knife skills and didn’t seem to have any problems with vibrators. I wondered if she was putting Leethu’s stash of toys to good use.

“The pair of them would be better off remaining abstinent. Jack, and those two young women, too.” Gregory turned another page and frowned. “Who completed these reports, Cockroach? The attachments are very odd, and I don’t understand much of the terminology.”

“Oh, I did them,” I lied. “Do you think your brothers and the other ass–wipes will finally get off my back, or am I going to have to go back to jail again?”

Gregory took a deep breath and tossed the heavy stack of papers onto my lap. “Redo the impact analysis. It’s weak. The rest will have to do. Just pray that the events in Aaru take enough attention that no one really reads this thing.”

***

They did read the thing. Out loud.

“Joseph Barakel seems to have had a lengthy medical history of cardiac weakness.” Raphael stabbed a finger at the relevant page. “I appreciate that you’ve included chemical formulas for his prescriptive medicines.”

I had no idea how Wyatt had managed to get copies of the guy’s medical records, including doctors’ notes, but I owed him far more than steak and lobster for this one.

“Quite the list of homeowners’ association violations too. Lawn above prescribed height, unauthorized tree removal, fence the incorrect style for neighborhood aesthetics — oh my.”

I nodded at New Guy, sending yet another silent thanks to Wyatt.

“Yes. That plays into the impact analysis. The neighbors were quite relieved at his passing and are happy with the new townhouse owner.” I’d come to realize that with angels, the more obscure, detailed shit you gave them, the better. Of course, I’d made up the whole impact analysis, but hopefully, with Wyatt’s three–hundred pages of computer printouts, no one would notice.

“I vote we accept the report, in spite of the tardiness of its presentation, and conclude that this human’s death was not due to the purely coincidental presence of the Iblis.” Raphael gave me a quick wink as he finished. Hmmm. Little brother was a bit of a flirt. Nice to know the angels weren’t all such prudes.

“All in favor?”

Even Gabriel raised his hand. I was shocked speechless. Wyatt needed to do my homework more often.

“And now onto Tyrone Cochran.” Gabriel motioned, and everyone shuffled papers around to the appropriate stack. I also paged through them, wondering what Wyatt had found out about the drug dealer who’d attacked me in a back alley.

There were some murmurs of conversation amid the flurry of mind–speech. I couldn’t follow any of it. Finally they all looked up at me. I held my breath.

“What is this FICO number? It seems to be quite relevant to this particular report.”

I stared blankly at Gabriel, my brain frantically trying to assemble an explanation that would make sense to a bunch of angels. “Umm, it’s used by a large number of human financial institutions to evaluate an individual’s credit worthiness and risk.”

The angels stared blankly at me.

“Does this have any relation to the Burrito Scale of Immense Magnitude?” Raphael shook his head, clearly befuddled by the concept of human monetary lending.

“No. Humans work as a giant community. They borrow, and groups who have superior resources lend. Those who lend need to have a system to determine who is worthy. There is a company that has put together a mathematical analysis of a human’s status as a borrower. This FICO number represents that.”

“Their worth?” A glimmer of recognition lit Gabriel’s eyes. “So this number is a symbol of their vibration level? Humans strive for a higher number, a more worthy state of being?”

“Yeah.”

Close enough. Besides, I had a bad feeling if I began discussing interest rates and foreclosures, at least one of these angels was going to start overturning the tables of the money changers and the benches of those who sold doves.

Sleazy just about wet himself with excitement. “I had no idea the humans had advanced so far as to evaluate each other by vibration level.”

New Guy tapped his paperwork. “Tyrone Cochran’s FICO number is 480. What vibration level does that equate to?”

I had no fucking idea. “Bottom of the barrel. Think: cane toad.”

Raphael’s eyebrows practically hit the roof. “Isn’t that the animal that tries to mate with their dead females and the corpses of other species?”

“Yeah, although I have no proof that Tyrone Cochran was practicing necrophilia. I meant that simply as a comparison of vibration level.”

The angels gave a collective shudder and paged further through the report.

“And what does ‘judgment of default’ mean?” Raphael held a sheet of paper up, squinting at it.

Again, I thought it best to keep the notion of money and lending out of the conversation. “He made a promise to someone and refused to uphold it.”

New Guy looked aghast. “He broke a
vow
? Even demons do not do such things.”

This whole meeting was totally looking up. “Yep. Deplorable behavior. And as you can see, his impact analysis didn’t reveal anything significant.”

That’s where the burrito scale came in. It was all bullshit, but, thankfully, the angels were too busy with rapid mind–speech over the debt judgment and FICO score to notice.

“All in favor?” Gabriel announced as everyone, including my own angel, raised their hand.

“Wait. What are we voting on? All in favor of what?”

Gregory stepped firmly on my foot, and I bit my tongue. Whatever the hell was going on, I trusted him. Kind of. He might be dipping his toes in the waters of sin, but I doubted he would dive under unless I was in mortal danger.

“Then it’s unanimous,” Gabriel said with a smug smile.

“How the fuck can anything be unanimous when I didn’t vote? And what were we voting on anyway?”

“The humans clearly are striving for higher vibration levels. You, as the most knowledgeable among us on human practices, are in an excellent position to ensure their salvation. So you are now responsible for any human with a FICO score of less than five hundred and eighty. The goal will be to raise the overall average score to seven hundred within the next century.”

What. The. Fuck. “No problem. I’ll just kill everyone with a score of less than seven hundred, and we’ll achieve our goal in record time. I might need to bring over a–few–hundred demons to assist me, but we’ll get it done before the weekend.”

“That’s a lot of four–nine–five reports, little Cockroach.” Gregory had a smirk on his face that I wasn’t trusting one bit.

“I’m not the right person to head up this committee, or project, or whatever the fuck it is. I don’t give a damn about vibration levels. Look at me — I’m an imp. My vibration level is in the shitter. I think anything over a six–hundred FICO score is a waste of time.”

A few of the angels seemed to seriously consider my statement. The rapid–paced mind–speech returned, and I struggled to keep up.

Imp.

Iblis.

Angel.

Erratic and unreliable.

Limited resources.

Time consuming issues in Aaru.

I finally gave up, assuming they’d communicate whatever their thoughts were once they were finished discussing. It took a while — long enough for me to refill my coffee and poke at the over–ripe strawberries and cantaloupe the hotel staff had set out for us.

“We’ve discussed and decided that you make a valid point.” Gregory’s mouth twitched at the edges as he said this. I totally needed to get him alone after the meeting and find out what had really gone on. “Still, you are clearly the most knowledgeable when it comes to humans. We’ve temporarily assigned you to rehabilitate the humans and raise their vibration levels. You’re also assigned the Fallen ones — the lost causes that we have no hope of turning around. That assignment is a permanent one.”

Temporary wasn’t that bad. All I had to do was really suck at the job and they’d jump to relieve me. I was more worried about these fallen ones — what the fuck was that about? “And what exactly am I expected to do with these lost causes that I’m permanently assigned to?”

Gregory shrugged. “Whatever you like. If you feel they are worthy of reform, then you can attempt it. If you wish to do otherwise, that is your choice. Punishment is sometimes a great deterrent to others who may be wavering on the edge of a bad decision. How you handle these individuals is up to you.”

I shot him a quick glance, wondering about his transgressions and whether he considered himself wavering on the edge of a bad decision. I hoped not. I wanted to meet Gregory halfway. I couldn’t deny what I was, but I was willing to compromise a bit to make this thing with him work. I hoped he would do the same. Chips and coffee were all well and good, but I needed a bit more sin from him to feel like we were truly the lovers I wanted us to be.

“How do I know who these fallen are? Which are considered mine, and which are still under the Ruling Council’s wings?”

Gabriel sniffed, tilting his head to look down at me. “Where vibration level is a consideration, other factors will also apply. You’ll need to consult with us and we’ll come to a collective agreement.”

What a bunch of bullshit. I now had the responsibility for these fallen dudes, and temporary assignment of humans who had poor credit? With seven–billion humans on the planet, they expected me to check everyone’s FICO score and vet each one individually? Yeah. Right.

“Sure. No problem.” I wanted to get past this Tyrone Cochran thing so I could go home and go about my business. I had statuary to spray paint, and water towers to toilet paper.

“I feel that this individual’s death doesn’t warrant any kind of censure,” Raphael spoke up, his violet eyes meeting mine for a brief second. “All in favor?”

Once again I wished Uriel was here. With her gone, Raphi was the only one I could really count on to vote on my side. Even Gregory sometimes opposed me.

This time my angel raised his hand in support, along with Raphael, New Guy, and Sleazy. Only Gabriel remained opposed. Asshole. I swear I’d find some way to stick it to him eventually. That guy was a total pain in the ass.

The rest of the meeting was boring, as usual. When I could see the faint orange of the sunrise outside the conference–room windows, the angels adjourned, and Gregory took me home. This time I refused coffee and yawned in his arms.

“Sleep with me?” I wanted nothing more than to feel him next to me while I slept through the morning.

“I don’t sleep.” His voice conveyed amusement, and his hands caressed my back. I leaned against him, feeling the rough cotton of his polo shirt against my face.

“I don’t care. I just want you near me while
I
do.”

His breath hitched, and I felt the heat of his energy against me. My spirit–self reached outward and connected in a thin band of connection.

“I may need to leave. I can’t remain away from Aaru for long.”

“I understand.” And I did. As selfish as I was, we both had burdens to carry — him more so than I. Someday, maybe, we could have the luxury of uninterrupted time together, but this was not it.

“Then I’ll join you in your bed for as long as I can.”

He bent down and kissed my forehead, rubbing a lock of hair between his fingers in a caress I’d grown to love. But it was his words that stirred me. I knew joining me in my bed probably wouldn’t include physical intercourse, but it was an emotional intimacy that meant everything to me. My angel, curled up against me while I dreamed. The only thing better would be to actually wake up in his arms.

–8–

H
e was gone when I woke. I went through the motions of my morning routine, helping Nyalla make pancakes while Harper fried bacon. In spite of yesterday’s breakthrough, Harper had again retreated into simmering anger. Her knuckles were white as she scooted the bites of pancake around the syrup on her plate, and she was tense as she sat on her chair. She looked like she’d start stabbing pillows at the slightest provocation.

She nearly did when my doorbell rang.

I got up, waving at the girls to remain seated. Candy was coming over to deliver some comps on potential real–estate investments. My friends usually walked right on in, but Harper had taken to locking the doors. All of them. Even during the day. I swore lightly under my breath as I threw the three dead bolts Nyalla had installed after the ghoul incident and flung open the door. Instead of Candy, an angel stood on my doorstep.

“Yeah?” This was getting tiresome. If this guy had a pregnant woman hiding in the bushes, I was going to remove his wings one feather at a time. With my teeth.